The King is amoosed
by aggiedoll
Summary: Sam s fingers are long and slender. Sitting at a table with the younger Winchester brother can be pretty distracting...making it hard to focus on mundane things like finding the First Blade...


Samley funfic ;)

For a while, there was nothing between them but the soft clicking of the laptop´s keys. Sam´s fingers moved over the keyboard fast, expertly, and Crowley couldn´t help but think of what other things those fingers would be capable of...those long, slender fingers, elegant as a females´, but strong and deadly weapons at the same time...

He realized too late the clicking had stopped. Looking up, he found Sam staring at him, an adorable frown creasing his front.

„What´s up with you", he said, grumpily, voice rough from too few hours of sleep (if he´d slept at all...Crowley hadn´t missed the dark shadows under the Winchester´s eyes, the general lack in springyness...). Still, he was well aware he was sitting at the table with a professional killer, tired as he might be, skilled in more ways than maybe any other human hunter, and oh so much more committed after everything Heaven, Hell, and his own family had put him through.

„Crowley!"

He flinched. Dammit, he had to stop loosing his thread here.

„All yours, big boy. How do you want me?"

The frown deepened, and Crowley watched a flicker of irritation show for a tiny moment on Sam´s face. Teasing those boys always payed. It was annoyingly satisfying...and addictive. Very much so. Crowley wasn´t sure he did it just for the fun of making them uncomfortable or...

„Stop staring at me like I´m the prize horse at the fair, Crowley. We´ve got work to do, and as you agreed on helping, - well, get started already!"

Crowley leant back in his chair, raising his handcuffed hands and shaking them. The chains jangled, a sound he darkly remembered from a long gone past.

„No need to breathing down my neck, Moose...I´m not going anywhere, aren´t I? Although a little heavy breathing wouldn´t ruin the day, would it..."

There it was. Sam Winchester Bitchface 2.0. Crowley loved it. A feeling crept up his spine he´d long thought forgotten and lost...

„Stop it, Crowley. I mean it. There´s work to be done, and don´t flatter yourself by believing I have any other use for you than exactly that."

Crowley gave him his most amiable smile. He even managed the eyes thing – had studied Sammy here for years to do it right, hadn´t he – and knew he looked pathetically hurt when he saw the slightest glimpse of remorse wash over the other man´s face.

Sometimes, it was almost too easy, being the manipulative demon he was...know them, play them, use them...and oh, how he would love to use that boy over there...all those loooong limbs, that violence and anger still buried deep down inside, waiting to be released...hell, he...

Crowley jerked when he had Sam´s nose inches from his own all of a sudden.

„Work, Crowley. Now. Here. Or you´re back in the dungeon for good. I don´t feel too compelled to stick to any deals while you play the ...whatever card it is you´re playing here!"

Crowley smirked. „Love it when you get all bad boy bossy, Gigantos", he purred. „And seriously...you, me, the dungeon...chains involved...I couldn´t be happier to oblige, Moose..."

„Crowley, I swear to God..."

„Oh, come on, choir boy, no need to use dirty language here. So – work?"

He registered Sam´s growing irritation – and his ever so cute attempts to put a lid on it – with glee. God – no...heck, who did the King of Hell (well...kind of) refer to when his own boss was lost somewhere in a cage having fun with another Winchester (which, if Crowley was true, made him a tiny bit jealous)...Holy Hitler? Sankt Stalin? Nahhhh..

„Crowley. CROWLEY! FOCUS!"

Focus. Oh, he WAS focused. In fact, he was so focused it kept pulling his mind into places that felt all too...

„Goddammit, Crowley, what´s the matter with you!"

„Well, my dear lad, you of all persons should know that...first hand. Addiction takes ist toll, as they say..."

Sam rolled his eyes. Made him look ten years younger. Oh, young Sammy...what an innocence and naivity had been hidden inside that pre-matured kid...it was gone now, of course. Would have been nice to get his hands on the earlier version of Sam Winchester...what an enthusiastic lover might he have been...Crowley sighed. Lost chances. On the other hand...this New Sam here...absolutely delicious. Broken and put together again, twisted and haunted in so many ways...so exquisitely damaged...

„Crowley, are you...Jesus, are you...are those...do you..."

He made his most innocent face. Crap – had those sounds been his own? Or had he heard them inside his head? He couldn´t tell, which was bad. Very bad. As it had been a pretty hot porn there playing. So the moaning...

Snap.

„I´m done here. You want to play games – fine. Play without me. I´m leaving. You cool off your...head, or whatever. And I warn you, Crowley, you´re only well and alive as long as you´re useful to me. Us. Just a reminder, in case you´ve forgotten."

Oh my, hw loved it when that boy got angry. Imagine what he could do to you with a whip...or just those big hands...the hands again...grabbing him angrily, furiously, pushing him around...on his back...

The door slammed shut. He listened to Sam´s steps fading out.

Crowley stretched and leant back in his chair.

His moose would come back. And until then...he had his dreams.


End file.
